Now You Finally See
by eigoyui
Summary: Hermione's 18th birthday ends up being a pretty special one.


The remnants of the sun still glitter through the canopy of trees above the tent and a cool breeze has stirred, fluttering the leaves, creating a calming effect over you. You haven't felt calm for weeks, months now, and the feeling is foreign, almost unsettling. You can't help but feel slightly relieved that you're not as on edge today. It's your birthday, after all.

The boys are inside doing whatever they do when it's your turn to cook dinner and you know they've forgotten because even they aren't so insensitive as to not even mention it, no matter what's going on around them. You feel your eyes burning and wipe them furiously, willing yourself not to cry. You can't seem to stop yourself nowadays.

You can't deny that it hurts, your two best friends in the world forgetting your eighteenth birthday, but then you think you should be cutting them some slack. It isn't as if it's just another normal, danger-free day.

The scent of something burning attacks your senses, and you're reminded of the fish cooking over the fire. You look over and let out a low, frustrated moan as you eye the blackened meat, putting your head in your hands and crying. You don't care about stopping yourself anymore. When did you become incapable of cooking fish? You know it's not just because of the fish that you are upset, but it's a good enough excuse for now.

You're not quite sure how long you are sitting there when you feel his presence, but it can't be terribly long because you can still see the fading sunlight through the gaps in the treetops. You feel him sit down beside you, the whole right side of your body feels like it's on fire.

"You alright?" he says, gesturing to your tearstained cheeks. It would be so easy for you to tell him everything, tell him how scared you are for all of your lives, but especially scared for the two of you and the path you seem to be heading down. You want to tell him that you're scared you'll blink and miss it. But you don't. You point at the fish half-heartedly.

"I wrecked dinner." Ron looks are the charred fish and a smile crosses his face.

"It doesn't look that bad," he says, and you can't help but laugh.

"Liar," you say, bumping your shoulder against his and his smile widens for a moment before his expression softens and he meets your gaze.

"We didn't forget," he whispers, his eyes pleading for you to believe him. You raise your eyebrows in disbelief.

"You didn't say anything. What was I supposed to think?" You challenge him, and in a completely un-Ron manner, he doesn't fight back. He relents.

"I needed a bit more time. If I had said something this morning, you wouldn't have left me alone all day and I wouldn't have been able to finish this." He holds out his hand. In it, you realize, is a small leather pouch and you look at him in surprise.

"How did you-" you start but he holds his hand up to stop you.

"Just open it. It might be crap." He laughs nervously and you can't bear to keep him waiting any longer. You take the pouch and pull it open, and as you tip its contents onto your hand you wonder if it's just you, or has if time has slowed down.

On your palm is a bracelet. It isn't gold or silver, but as you hold it up in the firelight and run your fingers over the flawlessly woven bark and leaves, your hands begin to shake.

"Did you make this?" you ask him, avoiding his gaze. He laughs again, more nervously than the first time. You nod, and it shakes loose the tears that had been resting in your eyes, and one by one, they roll down your cheeks. He raises his hand and brushes one away with his thumb.

"Depends on if you like it, I suppose." You nod again.

"It's amazing. These little beads – did you carve them yourself?" Your voice is trembling, no louder than a whisper, but he hears you and nods somewhat proudly.

"Harry's been healing cuts all day." You shake your head and hold your hand out to him, wordlessly. You are in awe. In awe of this boy - no, _man _- sitting beside you, your wrist resting on his knee as he ties the bracelet tightly.

"It's not too tight?" he whispers and you feel the warmth of his breath on your ear. You shake your head, speechless, afraid to look at him. Afraid of what you might do if you look at him. Afraid that he might, if you meet his eyes, know that for the first time in the seven years you have known him, you are one hundred percent sure that you are in love with him.

You are saved by the rustling of the tent door as Harry exits, holding something in his hand. He grins at you and you can't help but smile back; he looks so excited about whatever he is holding, that you can't be annoyed, not even for a second.

He sits on the other side of you and holds out his hands, presenting you with a large mushroom. You look closer and see that it is decorated with leaves and flowers. It's not until you notice the burning twig that you realize what this is, what they've done for you. You can't stop the tears from falling and they sing to you in hushed tones. You look back and forth between them, Harry's green eyes bright, but his face tired, and Ron's blue ones focused on nothing but you. You smile through your tears and take both of their hands in yours, squeezing them tightly.

It may not be the best birthday or the best birthday cake you will ever have, but you know it will be one you'll never forget.


End file.
